


DNA

by khalisey



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Breeding, Brother/Sister Incest, Deep Throating, Demon Dean Winchester, Dubious Consent, F/M, Face Slapping, Half-Sibling Incest, Incest, Oral Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Sex, Sibling Incest, Winchester Sister
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2020-10-28 20:30:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20784656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khalisey/pseuds/khalisey
Summary: Unable to cope with Dean’s death, Y/N moves away in the hopes of coming to terms of losing her big brother. Little does she know that Dean is back from the dead and he’s pissed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story really isn’t for the fainthearted so please, if you are in any way triggered by the above, do not read on. I will not be held responsible for anyone’s morbid curiosities and I won’t tolerate hate.

After Dean died, you couldn’t stand to live in the bunker any more. Everywhere you turned something would trigger your heartbreak; from the six pack of beer stored in the fridge that neither you nor Sam dared to drink, the keys to his Impala still sat on the sideboard where he left them, his collection of Busty Asian Beauties stacked high on the War Room table that you just couldn’t bring yourself to move, to his uncharacteristically neat bedroom completely untouched and shrouded in a layer of dust that now sat like a macabre shrine. 

You felt such guilt at leaving Sam all alone in that vast iron shell while you both grieved your loss but all you could see when you looked at him was Dean. The pain that came with every glance almost crushed you, your chest constricting tighter and tighter until you could no longer breathe. Dean was your entire world - you were infatuated with him, _loved_ him. You felt a connection to him that you never had with Sam and when he died, a part of you withered away that night and no matter how much time could try to heal it, it never grew back.

You moved away after three months, setting in Mankato, a small town a few miles from the bunker and despite the fact you couldn’t call it home any more, the thought of driving across dozens of state lines, racing to Lebanon to help patch Sam up after a hunt went wrong wasn’t one you wanted to consider. You still had to be close if he needed you. After all, you were all the other one had to call family now.

Growing up you lived with your Mom but once she passed, you sought out the father you’d never known in a desperate attempt to find a place for yourself to fit. You eventually found John in Sioux Falls on a case and after convincing him who you were, the daughter he had fathered after a one night stand, you never looked back. Realising you were all alone with no other family except him to turn to, he took you in as a teenager and adopted you into the Winchester family almost immediately. You finally fit in.

After a life of hunting and only Dad, Sam, Dean and Bobby as constants in your life, it felt strange to be amongst regular people. You never blamed John for sheltering you from normality; easier not to make friends and forge relationships, especially when you moved around so much but you secretly pined for your old apple pie life. 

You got a job, rented an apartment and after a year of loneliness, allowed yourself to fall in love. The walls you built to protect yourself from misery were finally pulled down but you knew deep down, nobody would ever come close to Dean.

***  
You’re not sure what wakes you but find yourself jolting upright in bed, sheets tangled around your ankles. Silence fills your darkened apartment and you strain to listen for any sound that might have caused you to wake, head turning to the empty space in bed beside you. Letting go of a deep sigh, you realise Jared still isn’t home from work or at the very least, had come home and already left again. That was one problem with dating a cop; managing to share a bed, let alone a full night’s sleep together was almost impossible. 

You bring your legs up to your chest and hug your knees, suddenly cold despite your thick quilt. That’s when you hear it, the light tap tap tap at your door and realise that’s what must’ve stirred you. Almost crawling out of bed, you rub sleepily at your eyes as you pad through your apartment to the front door. You stand on tiptoes and peer through the peephole, extremely curious as to who might be calling to see you at this hour of the night. As your brain registers the person stood on the other side of the door, you feel your entire body go numb with cold. 

_Dean. It can’t be._ You saw his corpse. Mangled beyond a shadow of a doubt. _He was dead._ To any other person, seeing their dead relative would render them insane but to you, after the things you’ve witnessed, it seems almost… normal. You don’t have enough fingers to count the amount of times Sam and Dean had returned from fates worse than death. 

Despite the unease laying thick in your tummy, aware this could be a very elaborate trap set by an avenging shapeshifter to murder you, you need to know for sure. Clasping the door knob, you pull the door and open it a fraction.

“De—Dean?” You squeak, heart thudding inside your chest just at the sound of you saying his name.

“Surprise little sis.” The words almost sing from his throat. He looks just like Dean but there’s something not quite sitting right; his posture changed, hair styled differently and the twisted smirk on his lips that could make your clit tingle now menacing and sinister.

“What— How— You’re alive?!”

“Well, in a manner of speaking,” he chuckles, eyes blinking onyx. Your body freezes to the spot, veins icy cold as you realise what he has become. The taste of sour acidity is thick in your throat as you attempt to swallow down the urge to vomit. “But I've gotta tell ya, I’ve never felt greater.” 

Rushing to slam the door, you put all your weight behind it but Dean jams his foot in the way so you can’t close it. You struggle for a second before he shoves it open with his shoulder, the effort behind his weight sending you stumbling backwards. The doorway now free for him to enter without resistance, he takes a slow step into your apartment, his face contorted into a maniacal stare. 

“Now now Y/N, that’s no way to treat a guest. _Especially_ me.” 

He advances towards you forcing you back into the last few steps of space inside the narrow hallway and find yourself flush against the wall behind you. Dean lifts an arm, placing his hand to the wall and you realise he’s completely blocked any chance of escape.

“What happened to you?” You ask timidly, heavy trepidation in your voice.

“After Metatron killed me, the Mark, it altered me. Made me… _better_,” he replies gently. Sensing your apprehension the smile on his face falls into a look of concern. “Oh baby girl, why you so frightened? I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

Raising a hand, his fingers trace down your cheek sensually and you feel yourself stiffen beneath his touch. Heat pours into your cheeks and chest flushes crimson as your body betrays you, feeling wetness flood your panties. Taking in a deep breath, his familiar scent of spearmint and whiskey clouds your senses but it’s stained with something sour and bitter that you can’t quite place. Something— _Sulphur._

“You were dead Dean. I mourned you.” The statement escapes as a throaty whisper.

“Clearly not for long enough.” 

Watching him, Dean’s eyes glance to the frame hanging on the wall next to you. You don’t need to look to know what picture lays within the oak surrounding, the image is engraved to memory. Seeing it every day as you walk through the door, the photo of you and Jared hangs proudly, managing to coax a smile from your lips even on your darkest days. 

“Hurt my feelings to find out you left the bunker. Left Sammy. _Left me._” Dean’s breath is hot against your face as he closes the gap between you, the hardness of his thigh manipulating itself between your legs. “Y’know sweetheart, I wouldn’t have pegged him for your type.”

“And just who exactly is ‘my type’?” You reply before turning your head to the side, squeezing your eyes closed as Dean takes a deep breath in, his nose rubbing up your cheek.

“Oh c’mon little sis, we both know the answer to that.” 

You can almost hear the smile dripping from his lips in amusement and as you open your eyes and turn your head back to face him, you see that you’re right; that same wicked grin plastered across his mouth. A hand slides up the oversized shirt you’re wearing, fingers skimming over your bare thighs before reaching the hem of your panties.

“Haven’t you missed me?” He presses tighter against you, his thigh rubbing against your wet cunt and you’re afraid if he removes it, your forbidden arousal will show just how much you have.

“Dean—“ you whimper, his hand sliding between his thigh and yours and presses his palm hard against your core. 

“I know _I’ve_ missed hearing you call my name like that,” he breathes into your ear, fingering your panties to the side to slip his fingertips through your folds. You close your eyes, momentarily blindsided by the sensation of Dean’s touch forgetting how good, but also how sinful, it feels. His fingers press against your sex and you find yourself sagging into his body, widening your legs to allow him access. 

He kisses down your neck, occasionally nibbling at the skin just above your collarbone and you lose yourself in the memory of the first time the two of you gave into your taboo desires, remembering that even after all these years, just the mere mention of Shreveport, Louisiana has you blushing to the tips of your toes.

The way he manages to engineer your body to melt into his, he almost feels like the old Dean; the slight scratch of stubble against your skin soothed by the softness of his lips as his fingers glide inside you, filling you perfectly. But he’s no longer yours; just an evil reincarnation of the man you truly believed you loved. 

“Bet you don’t moan like this for your little friend do ya?” 

_Jared._

Tears prickle in the corner of your eyes as you think of him, all sweet, kind and loving. When you met him, you were finally able to put your twisted past behind you; store it in a box and lock it up tight. As time passed, you constantly questioned your morals and the more it played on your mind, the dirtier you felt. How could you possibly have fooled yourself into thinking that you would be able to live happily with your brother/lover without the fear of persecution?

“Dean stop,” you protest, bringing your hands up to his chest and attempt to push him away. He chooses to ignore you, his fingers beginning to find flawless rhythm. “Stop!” You shove him hard and he stumbles backwards, face screwed up with rage. 

“No?” He spits with venom, wiping the back of his hand damp with your slick across his mouth. “You’re actually telling me _no_?!” 

“You fucking bet I am.”

You stare each other down, eyes locked as you try to figure out Dean’s next move, a trait he always admired about you; how you could predict what he would do before he even knew himself but you forget, this isn’t Dean. Not really. He transforms in front of you then, morphing into the demon he has become, eyes flashing ebony as he pounces. Grabbing your wrists, he tightly pins your arms up against the wall and dominates his body over yours once more. You thrash into him but he’s far too strong, the pinching grip around your wrists smarting against your skin. 

“There’s no point struggling baby, I’m gonna have you whether you want it or not.”

Mentally scolding yourself for not being armed with the knife you keep under your pillow, you try to envision what lays on the tiny table next to you that could be used as a weapon just as you swing a knee up, letting it connect abruptly with Dean’s groin. He drops your arms instantly, letting out a deep guttural moan while he cups himself in pain. Reaching out for the base of a vase your hand wraps around it, bringing it up above your head quickly before smashing it over Dean’s, the porcelain breaking into thousands of pieces. He grunts taking a step backwards and clutches his skull as you use the opportunity to sprint down the hallway and away from him.

You curse the open plan design of the apartment, the lack of places to hide now clear as you scour the rooms for somewhere to conceal yourself. It’s no use, he’ll find you in seconds anywhere in here. You need to get to a phone, call Jared. _Call Sam._ Remembering you left your cell on your nightstand, you race to your room, taking your time to shut the door as quietly as possible so Dean doesn’t seek you out before you have time to call for help. Reaching under your pillow, you hurriedly grab the knife as you fumble with your cell, bringing up Sam’s number and let it ring. You count six, seven, eight rings and still no answer. 

“Come on Sam, pick up!” You hiss to yourself as it clicks to voicemail. _Hi, it’s Sam. I can’t get to the phone right now but leave a message and I’ll get back to you._ Babbling frantically, you do your best to warn him of the situation. “Sam, it’s me! Look, um, Dean he, he’s alive Sam. He’s a freakin’ demon. Please, I need you. Help me.” 

“Come on Y/N, don’t be like this.” Dean’s footsteps outside your room startle you and in your haste, drop your cell to the floor, thankful for the carpet swallowing the noise. “Don’t you wanna hang out with your big brother?” Dean shouts through the apartment, his deep voice bouncing off each wall until it’s almost ringing in your ears. You stay low behind the bed, crouching as far to the floor as you can get, trying to stay hidden from view. “We can pick up where we left off! Don’t you want that? Don’t you want me?” 

“That was a long time ago Dean. I was really messed up then, we both were.” You yell in response. Hearing the door knob rattle against the frame, you crouch further but it’s no use. As Dean kicks the door down, he clocks you and flashes you another wild smirk. 

“You never were any good at hide and seek little sis,” he hisses pacing towards the bed, his eyes fiercest obsidian. You cower as he reaches you, raising his hand above his head. It connects with your face harshly, extreme pain exploding through your skull and the blunt rap of his knuckles against your cheekbone causes you to see stars. The force of Dean’s hit knocks the knife out of your hand and slides under the bed. 

“That’s for kicking me in the nuts. But lucky for you, I’m not _that_ sore,” he winks with a smile. Normally such an action would create an unmistakable scorch of heat in your cunt but now, with the dead and blackened look in his eyes it causes the complete opposite, your body going numb with cold. He glances down at your abandoned cell, Sam’s name lit up in bold black letters. 

“Seriously? You tried to call Sammy?” He exclaims, kneeling down to your level. “Now that really hurts Y/N. That you’d actually go running to him when I’m just trying to get you back?” He pauses. “Hm, the two of you alone in that bunker, I bet things got real twisted huh?”

“Are you seriously implying that Sam fucked me?” 

“Well I fucked you, why not make it the set?” He laughs before letting his smile drop. “You know he knows I’m alive right? What I am?”

“You’re lying.” Clutching at your cheek, your skin prickles fiery hot beneath your palm but as you blink, a slew of tears begin to fall and slowly start to cool your face.

“I wish I was baby girl, trust me. Little brother’s known all along. Even tried to catch me, _cure me._” 

“Sam, he, he wouldn’t keep that from me—“ you whimper. 

“And yet he did. That’s gotta hurt hasn’t it? Sammy keeping secrets?” 

Dean’s right; it does hurt. Hurts like you’ve been stabbed in the back. Betrayed by your own brother. You tremble where you kneel, watching as Dean stands back up, fingering open his jeans and pulls his already hard cock free. Just seeing it reminds you of all the immoral acts of lust the two of you shared and for a second, you feel the coil tightening in the pit of your stomach sending pulses of pleasure throbbing down into your pussy before it’s slowly extinguished by a thick sense of fear. 

“Oh baby, don’t cry,” Dean soothes, stroking a hand over your bruised cheek, catching your tears with the bud of his thumb. “I’ll make you forget all about Sammy’s dishonesty.”

While one hand works his shaft, the other reaches for your scalp and pulls sharply at the root. The motion brings you to your knees, yelling in pain before Dean manages to stifle it with his dick, shoving it so deep down your throat, you choke around his girth. 

“That’s it little sister, suck it like you used to,” he laments, both of his hands now at the back of your skull so he can control the depth in which he thrusts. It’s sloppy and clumsy; dribble running down your chin as Dean fucks your mouth brutally. You can barely breathe, each piston of his hips cutting off the oxygen you so desperately need and splutter around him, choking on drops of salty pre-cum that burn your tender throat. 

Seeing stars, you feel yourself beginning to float knowing you’re only seconds from passing out and you can tell Dean can sense it too from the way he seems to hesitate for just a fraction of a second. He stops quickly, pulling himself free and air whooshes into your deflated lungs. Each breath bites the back of your throat as you begin to collapse but Dean stops you from hitting the floor, grabbing hold of your t-shirt by the collar and pulls you unsteadily to your feet. 

“Oh n— you don— sweethea— you’re gon— wan— be awak— for this.” Dean’s voice cuts in and out through the fogginess clogging up your brain. His deep gravelly tone sounds like he’s talking to you from a distance even though you can still feel his touch on your skin as the room spins violently and you have to swallow down the bile that’s blistering your oesophagus. Turning you round, he pushes you forwards and you fall to the bed, knees smacking hard against the frame.

Everything suddenly comes back into focus, the pain radiating down your shins bringing you out of your oxygen-starved daze. While Dean doesn’t have a hand on you, you take the opportunity to scramble across the bed, legs tangled up within the sheet covers but Dean’s reflexes are lightening sharp. You feel his hands curl around your ankles and pull you back towards him as you let out a tiny cry of despair. 

“You’re really starting to piss me off now baby,” He seethes in your ear, bending over you, the weight of his body against your back heavy and claustrophobic. Straightening up, he hurriedly pushes the t-shirt up your back, exposing you to him and yanks your panties down to your knees before pulling your asscheeks apart with his hands. The delighted click of his tongue followed by a breathy groan of “_look at that perfect cunt, just as I remember_,” tells you he’s admiring your naked pussy just like he used to and in one quick thrust, he’s inside you and despite the fact you’re still sticky from his fingers, it smarts and stings to no end. 

Dean bottoms out almost immediately, the heat of his thighs warming the backs of yours. You wriggle for a second trying to get reacquainted to the fullness and the dull burn dissolves into a warmth you haven’t felt since the last time he was inside you. It feels _magnificent_. The men that you slept with in a feeble attempt to quash your melancholy following Dean’s death never managed to truly sate your desires, leaving you desperately unfulfilled. Jared was the only one who even came close but no-one would ever be able to make your body sing quite like Dean.

As his thrusts magnify in ferocity, the head of his cock slams against your cervix repeatedly causing you to cry out in a mixture of pleasure and pain. Tears stream down your cheeks as Dean fucks you in a frenzy, distraught by the assault from the brother you loved in so many fucked up ways. 

“Gonna make you forget all about that second rate lover of yours baby girl,” Dean purrs between thrusts, “remind you of just how fucking good we are together. That I’m the best you’ve ever had.”

“De, please,” you sob, despite the heat coiling tight in your belly that’s ready to snap at any moment. You didn’t want him like this. You wanted him the way it used to be. Tender yet passionate stolen moments in the bunker when Sam would go for an early morning run or hot, sweaty love-making on the backseat of the Impala when you’d go off to work a case together when in fact there was no case at all. 

Fingertips bruise their way over your skin, his hands gripping tightly at your hips using the hold he has to fuck you back onto his shaft. Sticky wetness slowly begins to sluice down your thighs causing the obscene sound of each of Dean’s plunges to echo round the room like a pornographic soundtrack. Moans bleed from your lips involuntarily, each meaty drag catapulting you further and further towards coming.

“Yeah Y/N, you like that? Big brother’s cock fucking your pussy raw?” You keen at his words, your body taking on a mind of its own now as it responds to everything Dean is giving to it, every vein humming with delight.

His weight presses down over your back, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear as he whispers into it. “Gonna stuff you full of my cum little sis, see that belly bulge and swell.” Dropping his hand from your hip, it slides between your sodden thighs and lazily begins to massage your clit with the pads of his calloused fingertips. It’s just the friction you need, combined with the slower but deeper angle Dean fucks into you with to send you hurtling over the precipice, grinding yourself furiously against Dean’s palm as you ride the wave of your knee-trembling euphoria.

“That’s it Y/N, come for me baby,” Dean praises darkly in your ear, giving you a gentle kiss just below your jaw. The sudden familiar intimacy causes your eyes to burn with tears as he fucks you through the aftershocks of your orgasm, feeling the hot spurts of Dean’s release coat your womb and fill your belly. 

Dean pulls free, small droplets of white dribbling out of your spent cunt and onto the backs of your legs. You hear him fumble with his jeans, slowly zipping them back up as you slump onto the bed, not even bothering to pull up your panties and start to sob. 

Shame slowly swallows up and replaces the warm buzz tingling in your veins because as much as it felt fucking electrifying having Dean touch you, kiss you and fuck you again - the combination of your sense of betrayal to Jared and the agony of spending so long trying to move on with your grief and building a life for yourself without Dean pains you to your very core. Knowing that he’ll be gone in a matter of minutes, the uncertainty of whether you’ll ever see him again tearing you apart from the inside. 

The bed dips with Dean’s weight, feeling his hand stroke up and down your spine just like he used to when you were upset which just makes you cry harder.

“Come on now little sis, there’s no need to be sad,” he soothes but his voice does little to comfort you. “We’ve got the rest of our lives together now.” 

You sniff, lifting your head and blink away the remnants of tears. His jade green eyes stare back at you but you know your Dean isn’t really behind them. “What do you mean?”

Dean lets out a little amused chuckle, “Oh baby girl, did you really think I was gonna let you stay here? Wherever _I_ go, _you_ go.”


	2. The X to His Y

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   

> 
>   
_“You lose yourself in the memory of the first time the two of you gave into your taboo desires, remembering that even after all these years, just the mere mention of Shreveport, Louisiana has you blushing to the tips of your toes.”_ Prequel to DNA. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “DNA” was meant to be a one-off but after getting some pretty spectacular feedback (you know who you are!) - and a way to continue the the story - this idea was born. I didn’t expect to write such a lengthy one but when I get carried away… shit like this happens.

_Dean’s lips are hot over yours, tongue licking into your mouth sporadically followed by a mass of deep moans rumbling up from his chest. You can still taste yourself on him, perfectly combined with the slight woody tang of whiskey on his breath. It’s an intoxicating combination. He bottoms out, the head of his cock pushed firm against your cervix causing you to scream his name. _

_The headboard begins to rattle in time with Dean’s gradually building thrusts, each knock of wood against brick sure to wake the occupants of the room next door. You don’t care. You want them to hear every breathy cry, every whimper that tumbles from your lips as Dean’s skin slaps loudly against the backs of your thighs. You want them to know you’re getting fucked. You want them to know nobody can fuck you quite like your brother can._

_His pace quickens, sending you spiralling hard. With your already heightened sensitivity from the countless times Dean has driven you to the edge in the past hour, your orgasm grows in intensity so fast you don’t have time to prepare yourself; the rapid liquid heat building and building—_

“— Y/N!—“

“— Y/N!—“ 

The sound of Sam calling your name just as the Impala hits a particularly hard bump in the road jolts you awake, causing your head to sharply ricochet off the door handle. Rubbing the top of your skull, you wince at the pain and sit up, blinking slowly at the low setting sun glaring in through the windows, silently cursing yourself for packing away your sunglasses. It had been raining when you left Tuscaloosa so you hadn’t expected to need them so late into the evening. Dusk is just starting to roll in from the east, inky blue sky swallowing up the fringes of yellows and oranges that paint the western horizon.

“Where are we?” You ask, voice still thick with sleep. 

“Ah Sleeping Beauty, you’re awake!” Dean flashes you a wide smile in the rear view. Your pussy clenches in response, small flashbacks of your dream shooting across your brain like a comet. 

“Would’ve still been asleep if someone actually avoided the damn potholes instead of driving over them.” You grumble averting Dean’s gaze, attempting to take an interest in the woodland shooting past the windows. Anything to take your mind off the aching in your clit.

“Jeez, somebody woke up on the wrong side of the car.” Dean taunts but you choose to ignore him, the shame of your dream keeping the skin of your cheeks hot and clammy.

“We’re about fifty miles outside of Shreveport. Should be there inside an hour.” Sam turns round, giving you a reassuring smile. The three of you have been on the road for almost six hours and the pain in your knees where’d you been folded up on the back seat for all that time is starting to shoot down your shins and into your ankles. Giving them slow rotations to try and quell the pain helps a little but you desperately need to get out of the car and walk it off. Not to mention needing crisp night air to cool off your scorching libido. The sooner you get to Shreveport, the better.

***

The motel is an absolute hole. Of course Dean would pick the one closest to the shack that had the nerve to call itself a bar - the neon sign shaped like a lady with overly large breasts garishly flashing up the night sky. As you throw your duffel onto the floor beside one of the two double beds, you glance around the room and wish Sam had won the coin toss. 

At least he would have picked a better motel.

The bed sheets are thinner than paper but with the humidity sitting low in the room causing a collection of sweat to gather at the base of your neck, no matter how many times you wipe it away, you’re slightly thankful for the light starchy cotton. The tiny kitchen at the back of the room looks like it’s been shoved in at the last minute as an afterthought, only equipped with the bare essentials and you dread having to use the shower in the mouldy bathroom; the green mildew discolouring the seals and the strands of hair you can see clogging up the drain makes your whole body shiver. 

“I mean, I know it’s not the Four Seasons but it’ll do,” Dean smiles at you and Sam, trying to keep the optimism up in his voice. 

“For dogs maybe.” You reply grumpily, wishing you’d forced the matter harder when Dean insisted on booking out the usual one room instead of your request for two. 

It never bothered you having to sleep in the same room as your brothers, especially when money didn’t exactly stretch far, but since your dreams of Dean had started turning sexual, sharing a bed with him wound you up tighter than a spring. And after that last dream you’re constantly on edge - your cunt throbbing from the friction of your denim shorts rubbing against your clit. 

“What’s gotten into you? That witches curse in Tuscaloosa spread to you as well?” He laughs, looking at Sam hoping he’ll join in but his face remained stoic, clearly bored of Dean’s shit too.

“Nothing,” _I’ve just been having sex dreams about you for the past month and a half._ “I’m… I’m just tired.” 

“Ha, tired? You slept all the way here.” Dean states, flopping heavily onto the bed. With the springs squeaking and headboard knocking against the wall behind it, you’re reminded of your dream and instantly the heat in your sex you thought you’d managed to douse re-ignites, making you shift uncomfortably where you stand. No matter how hard you try to stifle it, your body has other ideas. 

“I’d hardly call that sleeping.” You mutter, crossing your arms over your chest attempting to cover the sudden stiffness of your nipples. 

“Whatever. I’m going to the bar.” He clambers off the bed, his heavy boots thudding on the threadbare carpet. “You coming Sammy?” 

Sam looks up from unpacking his bag and shakes his head. “Nah, gonna do a little research on this case and then hit the hay I think.” 

Dean laughs as he reaches the door, snatching up his wallet from the nearby table, giving you both one last glance. “Dude, you seriously need to get laid.” He quickly exits the room, door slamming loudly enough within the frame to knock you out of your daze. 

_Me too Dean, me too._

*** 

The next morning the first thing you notice is Dean’s presence behind you in bed. You’re so aware of his limbs; one arm draped over your stomach, the very tips of his fingers grazing your belly button and you can feel his feet tangled up within yours. But his hands and feet are the least of your worries. His lips are lazily pressed against the curve of your shoulder, his breath hot on your skin and worst of all, Dean’s cock, hard as fucking steel, sits painfully snug in the dip just above your ass. You daren’t move a muscle, just lay there frozen while you desperately try to erase the x-rated thoughts your mind keeps conjuring up.

Sam stirs in the bed next to you, slowly rubbing at his eyes to wash the sleep from them. He blinks a couple of times and turns his head to face you, noticing Dean snoring flat out behind you. He shoots you a sympathetic smile before taking a glance at the outdated alarm clock sat in front of an even more antique looking lamp on the small table separating the two beds. You groan internally; it’s only 6am. 

Even though you’d gone to bed around 10:30, you honestly feel like you haven’t slept at all. Dreams plagued you all night and regardless of how much you tossed and turned to rid yourself of the sinful images branded into your skull, it did nothing. And with Dean positioned the way he is, his cock laying so _perfectly thick_ against you, it only serves to make you feel worse. This entire trip is going to suck. 

You watch as Sam almost jumps out of bed and disappears into the bathroom, the soothing sound of the faucet running drowning out Dean’s snores enough for you to maybe get more sleep but it shuts off too quickly. He reappears and quickly dresses into his jogging pants, a loose hoodie and slips on his running shoes. If you didn’t feel so exhausted you actually would have joined him; the cool morning air might have helped to drown out your constant state of arousal.

Striding to the door, Sam pauses to pop in his headphones and gives you one last smile before exiting. The door clicks closed behind him, the sound of the lock catching jolts Dean awake suddenly, temporarily unaware of where he is. He soon realises it’s you he’s cuddled up to and hurriedly rolls away from you like he’s been scalded. You don’t want to acknowledge Dean right now but you need to move, your whole body almost numb from holding the same position for so long. You give a little stretch and instantly feel slightly better. 

“What time is it?” Dean grumbles sleepily from behind you. He must’ve noticed Sam is no longer in bed. 

“A little after six.” You reply quietly. 

“Shit, it’s still the middle of the damn night. Wake me up when Sam brings back coffee.” He turns over with a grunt, his snoring commencing almost instantly.

***

The case the three of you are here to investigate is one you’ve dealt with hundreds of times before. An angry spirit with an axe to grind and you know within a day or so, it’ll all be wrapped up, you can get back on the road and onto the next case. Only next time you’ll make sure to demand your own motel room. You can’t bear to spend any more mornings waking up next to Dean the way you did this one. 

After he rolled back over, you continued to lay there for a while before slowly crawling to the shower before Sam got back with breakfast. The stiflingly hot water did little to release the tension in your muscles however the orgasm you tore from your body as you vibrated silently against the tiled wall, biting down on your lip to stop yourself from calling out Dean’s name helped to shift some of the heat scorching your thighs.

“C’mon Y/N, we haven’t ganked any ghosts together in ages.” Dean pouts putting on his best puppy dog face. He’s clearly over the awkwardness of the early morning awakening to be practically begging you to go with him or perhaps he’s just hiding it well. You’re almost jealous of him for it if it is the latter because you haven’t been able to concentrate on anything with him around all morning. 

Even the simplest of things distract you from the laptop in front of you; the way his tongue licks away the slight moisture around his mouth the coffee has left behind, the way he drums the table with his hands, no doubt a Led Zeppelin song stuck in that dumb brain of his, the way he purses his lips after you answer him back causing those cute little dimples to appear just above the curve of his lips. It’s torture and the thought of being cooped up inside the Impala, the cause of your taboo arousal sitting within reaching distance of you, makes you squirm. 

“I’d rather just stay here if that’s cool,” you pause, “time of the month.” The second part comes out as a whisper, like it’s some kind of sordid secret like your inappropriate wet dreams. 

“It’s not the ghost of a shark Y/N, afraid it’s gonna sniff you out?” Dean mocks. 

_No, but I’m afraid you might be able to smell my arousal from here._

-

After much to-ing and fro-ing, you’re thankful you chose to stay at the motel and continue with the research Sam had started the night before, leaving the boys to take the trek up to the dilapidated plantation and investigate the haunting. The time alone serves you well; managing to pretty much figure out the rest of the case, meaning that once the boys have dug up and burned the bones of the mean old coot, you can hightail it outta here. It doesn’t stop you from daydreaming though - you can still feel the thickness of Dean’s cock rubbing against the base of your spine and the tips of your fingers, the same ones that coaxed out your hedonistic release earlier that morning, almost feel numb. You debate climbing back into the grubby old bed and masturbate your way through the afternoon but you know it will somehow just make you feel worse. Coming on your own is fine but when you wish you could be bouncing on your big brother’s meaty dick, fingers just don’t cut it. 

***

The sound of Dean’s out of tune singing echoes out from the bathroom while you and Sam attempt to watch TV. You consistently keep pressing the volume button up until it finally manages to drown his warbling out, the imagery of his wet, naked body making you fidget uncontrollably on the bed. 

“Jeez Y/N, you got ants in your pants or something?” Sam questions as the door to the bathroom swings open, the harsh LED light swathing the room in hospital-level brightness. 

Dean swaggers out, only a towel wrapped around his waist and you find yourself staring for a little too long. Coughing to cover up your awkwardness, you side-eye Sam just to make sure he hasn’t noticed the way you’re leering at your other brother. 

“Turn the TV up will ya Y/N, I can’t quite hear it.” Dean mutters sarcastically. Thumbing the remote, the volume decreases quickly and you chuck it back onto the bed, attempting to turn your attention back to the TV. 

“What’s the special occasion?” Sam asks Dean as he slides off the bed, grabbing a beer from the fridge. 

“Huh?” Dean spins round, rubbing a smaller towel against the back of his head. 

“The shower, the singing. Normally after a day like today you prefer to eat your weight in junk food and drink till you pass out.” 

“Oh! Remember that hot barmaid I was telling you about?” Sam nods as you stiffen at Dean’s words trying your best to maintain a blank expression while inside you’re secretly jealous. “She gets off at 11 so y’know.” You make the mistake of looking up and making eye contact as Dean wiggles his eyebrows at you. 

“Gross.” You mutter under your breath, folding your arms across your chest.

“She’s got a friend if you wanna come.” Dean ignores your comment, directing his sentence to Sam. 

“I’ll pass on the friend but I will come for a beer or two.” 

*** 

Without Sam or Dean filling the boxy room, it doesn’t feel quite so claustrophobic. You stretch out on the double bed, channel hopping to try and find something decent to watch but with the TV signal intermittent at best, you can only hope for five minutes of uninterrupted television. You settle on Legally Blonde - smiling to yourself knowing exactly what Dean would say if he caught you watching it - and curl onto your side, cuddling into one of Dean’s pillows. It smells faintly of his aftershave; all amber and sandalwood and it calms you instantly despite the heat it seems to ignite down below. 

You can’t remember when you drifted off - maybe sometime between Elle arriving at Harvard and the fancy dress party but the blaring of the television once the movie has ended isn’t what startles you from sleep. The motel door slams shut and you bolt up in bed, hand on the revolver you keep under your pillow. The screen casts a ghastly glow across the room, shadows popping up the walls and contorting into monstrous shapes.

“Dean— what the fuck?” You yell as you realise who the mysterious figure is lingering at the end of the bed. “You scared me half to death, I was about to blow your damn brains out.” 

“Jeez sorry Y/N. I was just coming back to get something.” He mutters fiddling about in his bag on the floor. 

“What? Your condoms?” 

“Well um, yeah actually,” he straightens up shoving a couple in his pocket. “Tiffany’s waiting.” 

“_Tiffany?_” 

“Y’know, the barmaid I’ve been trying to nail since we got here.” There’s a drunken edge to the smirk he flashes you and you can practically smell the whiskey on him from here. 

“Yuck.” You grimace climbing off the bed, screwing up your nose. Grabbing your wash bag, you head for the bathroom desperate to wash off the arousal that had begun to simmer under your skin the moment Dean returned to the room. His demeanour changes in a flash - the smile is gone, replaced by a look of contempt and his eyes are almost black with fury. Dean reaches out for your arm and pulls you in close, breath hot on your cheek.

“I’ve about had it up to here with your piss poor attitude the last few days - nah, make it the last fuckin’ month. Either snap the fuck out of it or you can find your own damn way back home ‘cause I’m not having your bratty little ass sat in my backseat for eleven fuckin’ hours.” 

His voice is so painfully deep it sends vibrations zinging right down to your clit but you hadn’t counted on the outburst. The one person in the world who gets you, who protects you, who you feel closer to than anyone else on Earth talking to you like you’re shit. The way he spits the words, such malice in his tone, makes your eyes prickle with tears - a horrible reminder of when John used to reprimand you. But despite the hurt laying thick in your chest, the thought of Dean fucking that trashy barmaid is still very much on your mind and anger begins to bubble in your veins. 

“Fine, fuckin’ leave me here for all I care. Saves me having to watch you embarrass yourself chasing the tail of any woman with daddy issues within a fifty mile radius.” You seethe through gritted teeth.

“Ha, that’s rich coming from you. The one with the biggest daddy issues of them all.”

“At least I don’t attempt to fuck anything with a pulse.”

Dean lets out an exasperated laugh. “So those two guys in Alabama you took back to the motel just, what, wanted to play board games?”

“That’s none of your business.” 

Dean had been on the cusp of scoring with a particular hot waitress in the scummy bar the three of you were drinking in and it all got too much for you to witness. The way his hand slid up her thigh, mouth gently ghosting against her neck as he no doubt whispered filth in her ear, teeth pulling at his bottom lip while he watched her work - it literally drove you to the brink of insanity. This was before you learnt to control your jealousy so you had ended up blind drunk, inviting two bikers back to the motel. 

You regret every moment of that night; their rough, sweaty hands trying to paw at you while you sucked their tiny dicks and then faking a couple of orgasms while they took turns to fuck you. It was unsatisfying as hell but by that point you just needed some form of release; a way of escaping your taboo fantasies while Dean got his. It failed on every front.

“Then it’s none of your fuckin’ business where I stick my dick, you got that?” You open your mouth to speak but find Dean’s hand suddenly around your throat, fingers flexing against your clammy skin, your words dissolving on your tongue. “I swear if you say another goddamn word Y/N—” You watch his jaw tighten beneath stubbled skin and your pussy begins to flood with warmth. Staring deeply at him in silence, you nibble on the inside of your mouth biting back another bitchy reply. You can’t help but act like this - anything to mask how you really feel. “That’s more like it.” Dean almost pushes you away as he lets go of your neck, the indents of his fingertips bruising into your skin. “Now if you’ll fuckin’ excuse me, I got pussy waitin’.”

He doesn’t look like the Dean you know and love as he turns on his heel, stomping towards the door. You know you’ve pushed him too far tonight. Altered the dynamics of your relationship, maybe even damaged it beyond repair but you had to do something to keep him at a distance. You could spend the rest of your life making it up to him for your asshole behaviour but if you fell prey to the sin you ached for and tried to atone for the kind of sick, twisted things you wanted him to do to you, well, there’s no way back from that. It’s better this way. That Dean doesn’t know how truly fucked up you are.

He doesn’t even glance back at you as he pulls the door open silently but the thunderous clap it makes as he slams it shut is enough to make the entire room shake in its foundations.

*** 

You’ve no idea what the time is when the door crashes open through the darkness. Sleep didn’t come easy after Dean stormed out. Paired with the growing thunderstorm outside, your argument plagued you, now only wishing you’d kept your opinions to yourself. Why’d you have to go and run your mouth? 

Jumping up from the bed in fear you hastily grab your revolver again and aim it at the shadow in the doorway. You’re about to release the safety as Dean steps inside, raining running in rivulets down his clothes and into a large puddle on the floor. Letting out a big sigh, you drop your gun to the bed and start to make your way towards the bathroom. You’re not going to make the same mistake as earlier, now desperate to barricade yourself away until he leaves. That’s the problem with motel rooms - you have very few places to hide when you want to avoid someone. 

Dean grabs your wrist tightly and yanks you towards him - the smell of whiskey and leather smothering you. It makes you giddy. “You ruined my damn night.” He breathes against your lips, his wet clothes chilling you to the bone. 

“Oh yeah? Couldn’t you get it up for her?” 

_Fuck sake, just shut your fucking mouth for once._

“Couldn’t think about anythin’ else but fuckin’ you,” he pauses. “It’s all I’ve thought about for months.” The room is suddenly silent except for your heavy breathing, Dean’s confession making your entire body flush hot. You swallow deeply and take your shot.

“Then stop thinking about it and fucking do it.” 

Dean moves faster than lightning. Pulling you in tighter, he presses his lips to yours. They’re still cold from the rain but they warm quickly as he kisses you hard and deep. Moans bubble up from your chest, white hot heat flooding your pussy. You tear at Dean’s pants as he tugs your pyjama shorts down your legs. Every second is furious and messy, your clothes strewn everywhere. There’s no time in making it to the bed - you need each other right here, right now. In a tangle of limbs and kisses, he pulls you to the floor and forces your naked thighs apart. 

Dean’s inside you in an instant, bottoming out in one hard thrust and you moan into his open mouth, hooking his bottom lip between your teeth. He lets out a low growl as he begins to move, every snap of his hips bruising against the insides of your thighs. You keen into his shoulder while Dean’s deep groans melt against your neck, fucking into you roughly causing the threadbare carpet to sear friction burns into your back. 

Warmth builds rapidly in your belly, pressure close to snapping. Clawing at his shoulder blades, your nails cut half moon shapes into his perfectly toned skin, the sharp ache making Dean rut into you even harder. Your lips never far from his; he kisses down your neck and back up repeatedly, capturing your mouth with hasty, wet licks between throaty grunts and groans. Sweat gathers in the creases of your thighs, pooling in the dip between your breasts - slick against Dean’s own damp chest as he continues to fuck into you with reckless abandon. 

It only takes you minutes to come explosively around his girth, shrieking his name as you tremble and go limp beneath him. He fucks you through your orgasm until he’s shooting hot ropes of cum deep into your womb, warming you in a way that you’ll never be able to replicate.

***

Despite the storm, humidity still hangs thick in the air the next morning as you bundle back into the rear of the Impala, your thighs sticky and cunt still pulsing. Sam finishes packing the last of your belongings in the truck as Dean climbs into the front seat and gives you a quick glance in the rear view, the corners of his mouth curled up into a tiny smile. 

The atmosphere in the motel room that morning was still palpable but it felt different - no longer tinged with unresolved sexual tension but thick with a secret that made your cheeks flush and every time you glanced at the patch of floor in front of the doorway, the sores on your ass cheeks prickled sharply with heat.

As you drive out of town, the large sign _“Thank You for Visiting Shreveport, Louisiana”_ looms closer and once you pass it, Dean gives you another longing glance, smile wide on his lips. You stiffen in your seat, fists tightening around the cream leather beneath you. Now you’ve tasted sin in all its glory, you ache to do it all over again. 

And you can tell by the look in Dean’s eye he wants it too.


End file.
